Unspoken Words
by Enigmaticrose4
Summary: Draco finally shares what he's spent so many years thinking. Sad with a happy ending.
1. Draco's Letter

I don't own HP. Wish I did, but I don't.

XXX

The words were on my lips a million times every day, but I could never get them out.

Every day, since I was eleven years old, I'd wished to utter them.

Words, so many words, poured forth when you were near, but none were the right ones.

Always the wrong ones.

First they were laden with my own sense of superiority. I was sure that I was better than you. Sure I was better than everyone, except maybe my father.

Never once had I had my hand rejected. No one had ever defied me.

Until you.

You disagreed with me on our first meeting. You defied me on the second.

And every time I tried to regain control, to prove my superiority, I failed.

Sometimes I even helped you.

Like during our first flying lesson.

And so the years passed.

We fell into a routine.

I did or said terrible things about you or your friends.

You continued to ignore or defy me.

I became obsessed.

Until it all ended.

My father was arrested and I was given a terrible, hopeless task.

I knew there was no turning back. That my path had been laid out long before I was born.

It was hopeless.

If was then that I knew the truth. I knew I wasn't the superior one. That I would never truly come out on top.

If I completed my task I would never again continue our rivalry, not without my murder of an old man twisting it into something unrecognizable.

Or I would fail and die.

When I was granted a third option I was in shock.

But then the darkness descended and I knew now was your time. You would either die or slay the man my parents worshipped. The man I had mistakenly sworn my life to.

If you won, I would go away for a very long time, if not forever.

And then, you appeared before me, in my own home.

For once, I said the right words.

"I don't know."

It delayed the summoning of the Dark Lord.

It kept you safe.

I knew what I was doing.

You had rejected and denied me at every turn, but I didn't want you dead.

Never that.

You, bloody Harry Potter, and my mixed bag of emotions towards you was the only constant in my life.

Looking at you, face swollen and scar hidden, I saw the same boy that had disagreed with me about Hagrid. The boy who had never ridden a broom before in his life, but defied me in order to rescue a friend's stupid toy.

If you could do that at eleven, what could you do at seventeen?

So, I lied.

I lied and saved us all.

And then you returned the favor.

You swooped down and chose to save me. You risked your life for me, your childhood rival.

And then my mother returned the favor. She saved you in the same method I did.

She lied.

Do you see the pattern?

And then you stood up at my trial and spoke the truth.

I rarely saw you after that.

We both married and had children.

Our lives drew us together at times, but we were adults. We were civil to each other, never returning to the way we were before.

I missed that time.

But I never tried to renew it.

We all have to grow up.

When I learned your second son was the same age as Scorpius I worried and wondered if they would follow in our footsteps.

Sometimes I wonder if we would have ended up like them if there had been no war. If we had been raised differently. Both of our boys come from loving homes.

Astoria and I may have separated after Scorpius went to Hogwarts, but he never doubted our love for him. He never feared what I would do if he disappointed me.

I don't need to explain how young Albus grew up differently than you.

We see each other a lot more often these days. What with our sons' marriage and your daughter carrying their children for them.

Hard to believe that we're grandparents.

We're always so civil, so adult.

That doesn't stop me from wanting to grab you and slam you against a wall before seeing exactly what you taste like.

But I've resisted for all these years.

I resisted at our sons' wedding.

I resisted when I saw our first grandchild.

I resisted at every single family dinner.

The only time I didn't have to resist was at your wife's funeral.

All I wanted to do then was take you in my arms and hold you. But all I could do was offer my condolences.  
Never the right time to say the right words.

Until now.

Something changed after she died.

I found you on my doorstep at three in the morning a few months after the funeral. Your eyes were bloodshot and there were dark shadows under them.

You shoved me out of your way and planted yourself in my study - drinking my good brandy and walking me through scene after scene from our years at Hogwarts.

Every time I tried to speak you told me to shut up.

I finally fell asleep at my desk, listening to you.

When I awoke you were gone. The only evidence you'd been there at all was the empty brandy bottle.

This happened so many times I lost count.

So many words I wanted to say, but you never let me.

It was if you knew our relationship was undefinable, and you refused to let me change that.

When you did stop speaking I would find those remarkable eyes of yours boring into me. Telling me things I wanted very badly to be true.

The time you came and found no brandy was the last time.

You shouted and began to throw things, but you never brought magic into it.

I shouted right back and let the words come out. About how you were letting grief destroy you. That your grandchildren missed you. How your children were worried. You called me a liar when I let you know that your best friends had come to me for help.

Finally, I said all the words I'd been holding back.

And by uttering those words, I lost you.

It's been five years.

I hear from Scorpius and Albus that you've cleaned yourself up. That you're teaching at Hogwarts and writing a textbook that isn't worthless when it comes to defensive magic.

I'm happy for you.

I'm not writing this to make you feel like you need to do something. Rather, I want you to know that while those words are still true, I can't let them affect the lives of our sons and grandchildren.

They're tired of knowing that if I come to an event, you won't.

So, please, forgot those words I spoke. Do what we did for so many years.

Put the past in the past. Focus on the future. On our grandchildren.

Please.

I'm begging you.

Forgot the words.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, when life gets stressful I write. And my writing tends to get a bit different. Hope you enjoy. Will post part 2 when I finish cleaning it up. Likely when I get the next chapter of Brightest Black up.


	2. Harry's Response

I don't own HP. Wish I did, but I don't.

XXX

You are a supremely frustrating idiot.

You know that, right?

I'm sure you do.

Do you think that sending me that letter would accomplish anything?

Well, you may be an idiotic prat, but you're actually correct more often than is healthy.

Do you know how it felt to be told by the man I spent most of my teenage years hating that I was destroying myself? To learn that a man I barely tolerated somehow loved me?

How?

How could you love me?

You tried your best to make my life at Hogwarts miserable.

You taunted my friends, watched while we were attacked and hurt.

You may not have been surprised by our sons' love, but I was.

I was sure that your boy was a miniature you. Ginny was the one that talked me into giving him a chance.

She's the one that cautioned me to behave before we saw each other.

And now she's gone.

I don't care that it's been close to a decade. She was the center of my world. She was my rock.

And then when she died I was lost.

That's why I came to your house.

Our old animosity. I knew it was still there. It was the one thing in my life I was sure hadn't changed

I could feel the tension hovering under the surface whenever we met.

Little did I know that it was only negative on my side.

I thought that being near someone that secretly hated me would help me heal.

Hate is the opposite of love.

So I was safe.

Or so I thought.

But you don't hate me, do you? You haven't for years.

You, like everyone else in my life, cared about me. You were worried about me.

I hated it, but I have to thank you for that.

Your love, it woke me up.

Made me take a look at myself.

And I wasn't happy, because you were right.

I was a bloody wreck.

Yes, I've cleaned myself up.

I'm teaching and writing a textbook that's actually useful.

But I'm not happy.

I'm not doing well.

And do you know why?

Because, whenever I close my eyes I see you standing there in front of me.

Your brow knotted in worry, your silver eyes looking so soft and caring, nothing at all like the boy I met so many years ago.

I suppose, what I'm trying to say, is that our old rivalry may not be dead, but it's certainly not the same.

I don't hate you. Not anymore.

I thought I did.

But, really, what's the difference between love and hate?

They are not opposite. Not really.

They are like white and black.

Light and darkness.

Evil and good.

Rain and Shine.

How can we have one without the other? How can we truly understand what one means without the other?

I ask you, how?

How can I hate you?

How can I hate the man that created a person that made my own son so happy?

It's impossible to hate the man that never pulled his punches with me.

One of the few people that never saw me as something more than human.

I read once, that to truly hate someone, you need to understand them. But once you understand them, you can't help but love them.

Neither of us are the same as we were, and nor should we be.

You've understood me for years, and now…

Now I finally understand you.

With that thought in mind, would you like to try again?

It's never too late to forget the past, and look to the future, is it?

I once refused your hand.

What if I turned the tables, and offered you mine in return?

I have an appointment to get new robes next Saturday, at eleven in the morning.

XXX

Albus pushed the door of Quality Quidditch Supplies open and started to take a step outside.

He froze, his foot in mid-air, his jaw dropping in disbelief. He almost fell flat on his face when Scorpius crashed into him a second later.

They teetered there for a moment, but ultimately Scorpius' reflexes, honed by years of playing quidditch and winning dueling championships all over the world, saved them from decorating the cobblestones with their teeth.

"Al? What's wrong?" Scorpius asked once he was sure his feet were firmly planted once again.

Albus shook his head and backed up a bit, moving to the side so Scorpius could see past him. He silently pointed down the street.

Scorpius took a look and then pulled back, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Well, that's a new development. What will we tell the children?"

"We don't have to tell them anything. They'll find out when they're home for Christmas in two weeks."

Scorpius snorted and pulled Albus back inside the shop. "Oh, really? You're willing to deal with Lyra scolding us for keeping secrets? And don't get me started on what Leo will say. Besides, do you truly believe my father won't try and sneak into Hogwarts to visit yours? There are no secrets in that school."

Albus shrugged, "That's easy. We didn't see anything, did we?" His eyes widened and he filled his voice with shock, "What? You saw Grandpa Harry and Grandfather Draco kissing? That's-that's unbelievable! They haven't been in the same room in five years! Did your Uncle George put you up to this?"

Scorpius snorted, "Leo may believe that, but Lyra won't. That girl misses nothing."

Albus grinned, "I don't know what you're talking about. They'll only know I'm lying if you give it away."

Scorpius poked Albus in the side, "And what makes you think I'll give it away?"

Albus jerked away from his husband's finger and give an innocent shrug, "I don't know…maybe the fact you've never once managed to surprise me? Ever?"

Scorpius tried to poke Albus again, but he dodged and hid behind a rack of Cleansweeps.

Scorpius went after him.

The two of them chased each other through the store until Albus hit a display of broom handle polish with his elbow, sending it tumbling.

They left quickly after that, with proprietor shouting at them as they fled hand in hand, giggling like school children.

Their fathers were long gone by then, the spot they had occupied in front of Madam Malkin's containing only a pair of footprints in the freshly fallen snow.

Albus shot it a look and smiled as he and Scorpius headed for an apparition point.

He was happy for his dad.

And he was sure his mum would be too.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** There's the second bit. I hope it satisfied. I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
